


Untitled Abel Plenkov / Nevada Ramirez Crossover

by RosemarysBabysitter (TashaElizabeth)



Category: My Soul to Take (2010), Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Dancing, Fighting Kink, M/M, Multiple Personalities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:26:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2005710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashaElizabeth/pseuds/RosemarysBabysitter





	1. Fear

Pretty white guys with wedding rings didn’t tend to frequent the sort of bars Nevada went to. If they did, they sat quietly in a corner afraid they might get rolled before they managed to buy their drugs and speed back to their little corners of the cities. They didn’t laugh so loud. They didn’t smile at everyone and try to engage in conversation with the girls in tight dresses or the low level thugs in their leather jackets and chains. They certainly didn’t dance like that, wild and reverent like old ladies at church.

Nevada was informed of the situation, not because he had any legal or moral responsibility over it but because Nevada was the kind of guy who got informed of things when he appeared on the scene. Nobody knew who this guy was or what he wanted. Probably he’d wandered in stoned off the street. 

He didn’t look stoned and Nevada wouldn’t have cared if he was. Not with the way he did look, with his hair falling sweaty into his eyes and his face tilted back toward the ceiling, his eyes closed in bliss and relief. Nevada had apprised him for nearly fifteen minutes before approaching, all swagger and black boots.

“Hey man, who the fuck are you?” Some force of his presence was lost beneath the thump and pound of the music. The man turned and wiped his palms through his hair. He had a sweet, innocent smile. He leaned in close and yelled over the noise. 

“We’re called a lot of things but if you say ‘Abel’, we’ll usually know that you’re talking to us.”

There wasn’t any fear in his voice and as he continued dancing, he arms above his head, Nevada eyed him for a long moment. He eyed Nevada right back. “Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” Nevada asked finally.

The man, Abel he had said, shook his head. “I don’t drink.” He smiled again, full and wide and charming. “But you can dance with me.”

“I don’t dance.”

“Psalms 149:3.” 

“What?”

Abel took Nevada’s hands, lacing their fingers together and pulled him, gently but insistently to the little strobe lit dance floor. He put his mouth at Nevada’s ear. _“Let them praise his name with dancing,”_ he said. _“Making melody to him with tambourine and lyre.”_

Nevada danced. He tried to put his hands on the man’s swaying hips and was batted off. He tried to stroke up the back of the man’s shirt and got tangled when Abel moved away. He tried to touch and was refuted so he came up behind Abel and put his hands over Abel’s belly and let Abel jump and sway in the space created by his arms. The movement of him was intoxicating. The way he put his whole body into the throbbing music and bit at his lip to words he clearly didn’t understand. Every time Nevada tried to put a hand on him he slipped back, like he was made of air, like he was magnetically repelled.

Nevada groaned. “Kiss me,” he said. He spun the man around and tried to grab at his face. Abel covered his hand with his and slipped it off of his body.

“Dance.” 

He spun again, his back to Nevada’s chest, his head leaning back on Nevada’s shoulder. The bar had their eyes conspicuously averted. Nevada put his face against the hot skin of the man’s neck and tried to kiss him, to lick at the sweat gathering below his ear. Abel shifted away. 

“Just dance,” he said. There was melancholy in his voice.“I never get to just be. I just want to be, please.”

Nevada saw it before it happened. The tic, the stumble. Abel went dizzy and fell and Nevada caught him. He looped an arm over his shoulder and dragged Abel, woozy and stumbling, out a fire exit and into the cool air of the alley.

Nevada propped him against the wall and wiped the sweat from his face. One of his men had followed and came barrelling out of the door a moment after them. In the fraction of a second Nevada’s head turned to bark an order at him, Abel’s whole posture changed. He settled sensuously down into his body and licked at his bottom lip as he looked at Nevada.

“Fuck me, you’re a pretty one.” Abel’s voice was lower. He stretched forward like a cat and wrapped his arms around Nevada’s neck. “Take me home quick before they put me back. I need you bad, baby.”

“You’re crazy,” Nevada said, admiringly. 

“Oh, totally.” Abel tilted his head toward the car coming around the corner. “This our ride, Papi?” Abel climbed into the back seat and then, when Nevada got in next to him, climbed into Nevada’s lap. 

The whole drive across town, Abel was sloppy and sweet. He kissed with his mouth open wide and didn’t struggle when Nevada grabbed at him with a firm hand. He tangled his fingers in Nevada’s collar and stroked down Nevada’s arms, finding his long fingers and sucking the taste of cigar smoke and Patron off them.

“Oh Papi,” he moaned, putting Nevada’s hand on his hip and enticing him to pull. “You don’t know how much I need this. You’ll give it to me good, right?”

“Whatever you need, crazy boy.”

“Promise.” He ground down on Nevada’s lap. “Promise you’ll fuck me as hard as you can.”

Nevada took a handful of his hair and knotted it between his fingers. He dragged Abel’s face toward his and bit at his lip. “You won’t sit right for a week. I promise.”

It was a struggle getting out of the car, up the stairs, and into the apartment door. Nevada’s boys knew to stay out in the lobby when he was entertaining and there was nobody to unlock the door when Abel distracted him by pulling the hem of Nevada’s shirt out of his pants.He had to pin Abel’s arms over his head just to get the door open and drag him inside. Abel’s kisses made his head spin.

He sent Abel into the bedroom and told him to wait on his knees, then strode into the bathroom and grinned at himself in the chrome and glass mirror as he splashed cold water on his face. From no kissing to ‘fuck me as hard as you can’. He wiped his face with his shirt.

Abel was standing just inside the doorway of the bedroom, tense but still in the darkness. 

Nevada switched on the light and grabbed his shoulder, putting on a stern tone. “I thought I said ‘on your knees’ baby.”

Abel whirled around and his eyes were wide and full of glee as he swung, hard, and drove his knuckles into Nevada’s jaw. Nevada stumbled and fell to all fours. Abel knelt and grabbed the collar of his leather jacket, wrenching it off him, throwing it across the room. The movement toppled Nevada to the floor, one cheek against the dirty wood. He tried to rise and Abel dropped him again, kicking his foot out from under him.

“What the fuck…” 

Abel’s hand went around Nevada’s neck. His fingertips stroked and soothed, but the pressure made Nevada see red at the edges of his vision. He froze. Abel spoke in voice inhuman with sadistic joy. With evil. He spoke quietly, just for Nevada. 

“When was the last time you were afraid of someone, Ramirez?”

Nevada shook his head, shuddering down a hot, desperate sense of fear. His cock was still hard between his legs. “No sé.” He swallowed against Abel’s palm and shut his eyes. Abel stroked his fingernails against Nevada’s scalp and then pushed his head away.

“English.”

_“I don’t know.”_

Abel scoffed. He got to his feet and sat back on the bed, his shoulders against the headboard. Nevada stole a glance at him. There was nothing insincere in his eyes. Abel saw him looking and grabbed at his crotch, rubbing himself through his jeans. “Crawl,” Abel said.

Nevada made a fist against the floor, but that voice got into him and rattled something inside that Nevada had always thought was solid. His tongue wanted something heavy on it. His palms were sweating.

“Crawl.”

Nevada crawled.  
-

Abel woke in a panic, gasping and choking on his fear. _Damnitfuck lost time again. Where are we? Where are we? Gotta get home._ He lurched to the side of the bed, found a pair of shoes there and started to fumble them on. He smacked the pockets of the jeans he was wearing and didn’t feel a wallet. _Damnitshitfuck._ He sat back down, reaching for a t-shirt crumpled on the floor, and then a strong, heavy arm wrapped around his head, pulling him back against the solid weight of a man’s chest.

“Deep breath, crazy boy.”

Abel took a deep breath. The man snaked his other arm over Abel’s shoulder and plastered his hand against Abel’s chest. Abel’s heart seemed to slow under the heat of it. He turned and was disappointed, but not surprised, to find he had been sharing a bed with a complete stranger. The man noted his confusion. His face was puffy with sleep and there was bruising developing on the side of his face. Abel squirmed away from his touch and instantly felt less calm. He brought the pillow into his lap and hugged it.

“Nevada,” the man said.

“What?”

“My name.”

“Oh,” Abel said softly. He looked down at the shoes he’d pulled on. They weren’t his. “I have this problem with my memory.”

“You got more problems than that.”

Abel flinched, pulling the pillow tighter to his chest. “Did I do something bad?”

The man smiled. It was not a nice smile, not a smile that was ever intended to comfort or soothe. “That would depend on how good a Catholic you claim to be.” He gestured to his cheek. “You did this anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” Abel put his head in his hands. “I always say that, over and over until its pathetic, but I am. I’m sorry and I am sorry. I’ll go.”

He started to rise but Nevada grabbed his wrist in a tight grip and wouldn’t let go. He tried to pull Abel into his arms again but Abel wouldn’t submit. They struggled briefly, equally matched. 

“Stay,” Nevada said finally.

“You’re really nice but I can’t.”

“I’m really not and you can.”

Abel looked up at him, tears in the corners of his eyes. “I can’t keep hurting people,” he whimpered and then, in defeat, let Nevada pull him tight against his shoulder, burying his face in the smell of Nevada’s skin.

Nevada stroked his hand through the back of Abel’s hair and Abel felt the muscles of his face relax, the tension in his shoulders drop and drift away. “Don’t worry, crazy boy,” he crooned. “You can’t really hurt me.”

“Yeah right.”

“You can’t,” Nevada said, like he had decided something final and important. “Nothing can.”


	2. Light

There was a time when Nevada would have seriously considered snapping if he’d had to answer his own phone at four o’clock in the morning. That time felt like longer ago than it was. The phone rang with a shrill and impossible to ignore ringer now. He fished it out from under his pillow.

“H’lo?” he grunted.

“Nevada?”

Nevada swung over and threw an arm on the other side of the bed. It was empty. When he had last closed his eyes, Abel had been laying there, one knee pressed against the wall, the covers dragged over his head. 

“Where are you?”

“Um, I think I’m in New Jersey.”

Nevadd punched the mattress. “How the fuck are you in New Jersey? I only went to bed three hours ago.” 

“I don’t know.” Through the phone came Abel’s wet laughter, quickly dissolving into tears. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry. _I’m sorry I went with him Papi. He was so pretty and I thought he would feel so good_.”

“You always think that, crazy boy,” Nevada said, rubbing at his forehead. “But what happens?”

“What?”

“Stay on the fucking phone.” Nevada heaved himself out of bed and reached for his pants, struggling to remember who owed him a favor and could be counted on at this time of night. “I’ll get you safe and get someone to bring you home.”

Daylight was streaking over the horizon when the car finally pulled up to Nevada’s building. Nevada was sitting up in the chair in front of the windows drinking take out coffee. Behind him, the ambient glow of the city lit the room in a sickly orange halo around his head. Over one shoulder he saw the car pull up to the curb. It was of appropriate style and cost to show that his out of state contacts had showed him respect and he reshuffled the political niceties before putting the matter out of mind.

He didn’t hear the lobby door open or the sound of the elevator descending, though he might have in one of his scrubbier digs. He did hear when the elevator opened again, the doors being directly across from the apartment door.

There was a scuffle in the hallway and then Abel was pushed through the door, hunched shouldered and snotty. Behind him the light of the hallway flooded in, creating a narrow yellow square on the floor. Abel staggered a few steps into the darkened room and then flopped down in the opposite chair, rolled his eyes away from Nevada’s face and began to examine his nails.

Nevada looked to the door, nodded. The door closed. The square vanished, the after image burning in Nevada’s vision, streaking Abel with greens and blues. Nevada put the coffee on the side table and linked his hands together over his chest. There was a long, artificially casual silence.

“When my sisters did this,” he said conversationally. “My mother used to rap their palms with a wooden spoon.”

Abel sighed and dropped his hands into his lap with a loud smack. “Well I’m not your sister.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at a corner of the ceiling defiantly. “I didn’t do it on purpose. You know I didn’t do it on purpose. You can’t get mad at me for things that aren’t my fault.”

“I worry, corazón.” Nevada said evenly. He squeezed his right index finger with his thumb and the knuckle popped. Abel pushed himself up out of the chair. 

“Who asked you to?!” he shouted and went for the bedroom, prepared to slam the door behind himself melodramatically. Nevada interceded. In two strides he was out of the chair and grabbing Abel by the shoulders.

“Nobody _asks_ me,” he said. “Nobody tells me, Nevada, watch out that crazy boy doesn’t run off with a pimp or sell his kidneys or walk off a fucking pier. Nobody asks me, so why?” He was angry now, shouting and shaking Abel’s shoulders. “Why do I do it? Tell me.”

Abel pulled himself inward, wincing from Nevada’s touch and lowering his head. He made a little sobbing sound and when Nevada released him, he jolted down as though he might fall before finding his footing. 

“Pathetic,” Nevada said. He was grinning. He pushed Abel’s shoulder and watched him stagger. “Just pathetic.” He shook his head and turned, going for his jacket on by the door. “If someone is going out its not going to be you.”

As he reached the rug, Abel slid into him, tackling his legs out from under him and scrambling to sit on top of him. The two wrestled on the floor. Abel was clawing and trying to bite. Nevada felt the hot, wet drip of blood rolling down from his cheek after his skin came away under Abel’s fingernails. He could hear the voice whispering, hissing to them both through Abel’s mouth. “I will tear down everything you love I will kill him I will kill all of them I will I will…”

Nevada took a firm hold of Abel’s hair and pulled him away. Abel’s eyes were wide and furious. He twitched towards Nevada, desperate. Nevada put his hand on Abel’s shoulder and flipped him onto his back, hard, so that the breath would come thudding out of him and he would see light in the blackness of his closed eyes. With dignity, he rose, put his hand to his scratched face to assess the damage, then put his foot on Abel’s chest before coming back down to straddle his hips. He knelt down close and let Abel see the resolve in his eyes.

“I’ll take him,” the voice said. Abel’s throat convulsed under the effort of producing it. “I’ll take him from you, Ramirez. I’ll push him down so far you won't ever hear him breathe again.”

Nevada didn’t flinch. “Do it and I let you live ten minutes out of sentiment. I’ll end you and I’ll stash you somewhere where no one will even ask questions about you. Then no one will get to know about those girls you killed.”

Abel swallowed hard, rage lighting his eyes and then he closed them and shuddered up into Nevada’s touch. “Papi?” he whined and tried to ruck up his shirt, showing the soft skin of his stomach. Nevada pulled back and slapped him hard, first with his palm to the left and then with the back of his hand when Abel moaned and tried to stutter out the endearment again.

“You dirty puta whore,” Nevada growled. “Open your mouth.” Nevada forced two of his fingers between Abel’s twitching lips and crooked them hard, raking his nails on Abel’s tongue. “Sucking bridge and tunnel dick for kicks. I will beat your ass blue. I will fuck you so hard you’ll spit blood.” Abel was choking around his knuckles, trying to speak. “What?” Nevada demanded, yanking his hand away and bouncing Abel’s skull off the floorboards.

“I’m sorry Papi.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for sucking bridge and tunnel dick for kicks.” He coughed and swallowed. “Sorry for scaring you, Papi. Sorry for putting Abel in danger. I can’t just leave. I have to remember.” Abel’s head nodded submissively. “I have to remember that when I go, Abel comes with me.” His eyes were fluttering closed, his face going slack.

“Don’t black out when I’m talking to you!” Nevada popped him lightly under the chin and his eyes momentarily widened.

“I’m sorry, Papi. I’ll remember but I can’t...they’re all talking at once. They’re all yelling, Nevada.” Abel’s voice cracked and he lurched up. Nevada took him in his arms and squeezed. Abel rubbed his nose into Nevada’s breastbone and shuddered. “They’re all yelling at once and I can’t think.”

“No thinking,” Nevada said and kissed him with the taste of his own blood smeared on Abel’s lips. "That's my boy."


End file.
